


The Monster That Is Guilt

by 88KeysOfSadism



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual relationship, Torture and blood and all that good stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/88KeysOfSadism/pseuds/88KeysOfSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Dick's sake. Not for his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monster That Is Guilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikimoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikimoo/gifts).



> I'm so sorry this is late and will be slow in being updated. Merry Christmas!

Guilt is quite possibly the worst emotion to get stuck with. It's a horrible mix of clawing, tense anxiety, depression that drowns and yanks down on everything, and whirring thoughts (what if he'd been a little bit faster, a little more aggressive, a little less scared? He should've offered himself up, should've fought harder, should've, could've, didn't).

Something in Bruce's cowled expression tells Jason that his guilt is plainly visible, not that it could be anything else. All of this is Jason's fault, though not in the way Bruce probably thinks. The Batman has a bad habit of jumping to conclusions, and this situation is going to make him all kinds of suspicious. 

Dick is cradled in Jason's arms, wearing nothing but bruises, grime, and blood. Eyes closed, hair matted, hand-shaped bruises across his body, a stark contrast to his pale skin. It's a blessing that Bruce can't see the injuries beneath the blood. But Jason is fine, clothed even. His only visible injuries are bruises around his wrists and an almost healed black eye. 

And the guilt.

Bruce crouches down a good distance away, mud squelching under his boots. Jason is covered in the stuff, but Dick is clean. At least Jason did something right.

"Jason, what happened?" It's Bruce, not Batman, who speaks, reaching out to touch his battered son. 

Jason all but growls, slapping Bruce's hand away. "Don't touch him," he snaps, voice quivering just slightly as he presses Dick more firmly into his own chest. "Just... He... We need to get out of here..."

The older vigilante retracts his hand, silently standing and leading Jason out of the woods. Away from the mud and the trees and the hell he escaped from. Oh sure, there will be questions later; Jason expects that. But he'll be long gone before he can be questioned. All he has to do is get Dick back to the Manor, and then get the hell away before he can be responsible for more of this man's pain. 

He's done enough damage to Dick already. No need to cause anymore. He's not going to hang around to see the scars of his failures. 

Jason doesn't say a word as he climbs into the backseat of the Batmobile, laying Dick across the clean leather, head on his mud-spattered lap. If only there were something to cover him up with. He doesn't want to have to look at the bruises he's responsible for. Even though he tried to clean Dick up, there's still a visible layer of grime and sweat and...

Other stuff. 

Nothing's going to come off without a good shower or something, not that Dick is going to be up for it. 

 

_Dick doesn't move much at all, quivering in the middle of the floor. He's almost completely out of it, having retreated into himself. Not that Jason can blame him at all._

_"You are quite the mess, Nightwing." The man circling Dick still insists on using the name of his hero persona, even though the mask and suit are gone. Pausing, Dick's torturer runs a hand through the dazed man's matted hair, causing Dick to flinch and mumble something._

_Jason's heart clenches up when the words, "Please, stop," reach his ears, and he gives another useless tug at the chains keeping him away from the original Robin. "Leave him alone, you sick fucker!"_

_The man looks up at Jason, and even with his face covered, the malicious smile on his face is obvious. "Did I not warn you to keep your mouth shut, Jason Todd? For Nightwing's sake?" The mentioned hero flinches back, and Jason just growls like some sort of animal._

_More men enter the room, dragging behind them what looks like a high pressure fire hose. The man steps away from Dick, giving a nod to his lackeys._

_Water shoots out of the hose and knocks Dick back with the force. He lets out an inhuman screech as the freezing water stabs at his wounds, and Jason has to look away._

_The screaming stops before the water does, which should've been a warning in and of itself. But when Jason finally reopens his eyes, Dick is limp on the floor, surrounded by murky red water. He's horribly, horribly still._

_"NO!" Someone comes up and undoes his cuffs, and Jason's sprinting over to Dick as fast as he can. He hasn't moved, he's not even breathing oh fuck-!_

_Ignoring the harsh wounds on Dick's back, the younger man pulls him into an upright position and begins to thump him on the back, forcing water out of his lungs._

_"Dickie, no... C'mon, breathe, dammit!"_

 

"Jason?" Cowl back, Bruce stands by the open back door, concern written into his eyes. When did they get back to the Batcave..?

"I'm fine," is the younger's response to the unasked question, pulling himself from the vehicle. It's been a damn long time since Jason's set foot in this cave, and he's not keen on making this a long visit. He's only here to make sure Dick gets taken care of right, and then he's gone. 

Before Bruce can offer otherwise, Jason scoops Dick up and out of the car, walking over to Alfred. There's some sort of operating table waiting, and Jason lays Dick out, careful to avoid any of his injuries. Their locations are all seared into his mind, for it would be sinful to forget what he caused.

"His back's a mess," the younger man mumbles, eyes on his bare feet. "Probably got a broken rib... He doesn't like to be touched either... Makes him uncomfortable..."

Alfred raises an eyebrow but says nothing, beginning to work on cleaning Dick up. There's a lot to clean up too... A lot that Jason should've prevented...

"What happened to him?" 

And there he is. The ever-demanding, always tactless asshole. Jason almost rolls his eyes before turning to face the man he once considered a father figure. 

"I didn't hurt him, Bruce. I know that's what you mean. I didn't lay a hand on him."

"Then how is it that he looks like he's been tortured and you're fine, Jason?"

The accusatory tone makes Jason visibly tense, digging his fingernails into his palms to avoid doing anything stupid. Like punching Bruce across his stupid face. He's done enough stupid shit already. 

 

_"That's going to cost him, Jason Todd. You'll regret that punch."_

_(But damn, punching him had felt good at the time)_

 

Bruce is yelling, but Jason's done listening. He's not going to stay here, not going to talk about what he did. All of this is his fault...

"If you didn't hurt him, then who did? Jason, right now, all the fingers are pointing to you, and unless you-"

"I didn't fucking hurt him!" Jason all but explodes, stopping his fist mere inches from Bruce's face. This is too much. He's not going to deal with it. "I don't know who it was, okay? If I did, they'd be fucking _dead_." It takes a few moments to regain control. "I'm going to go take a shower."

End of discussion. Jason storms out of the room, over to the showers, tuning out Bruce shouting after him. There's a little voice in the back of his mind, "How dare you treat yourself to something as nice as a shower when you're responsible for all this hell?"

The voice gets hammered away by the blistering hot water beating on his back. With it, any doubt of what he has to do goes too. 

Dick will hate Jason. Despise him, abhor him. Just looking at Jason will trigger so many memories, so much shit. After all, Dick spent most of his time with his eyes locked on Jason. Begging, pleading, screaming, crying...

Jason swallows hard and turns off the water. He's got to get away. Far, far, far away, where nobody will ever find him. 

It's for Dick's sake. Not for his. 

He's not that selfish. Right?

The mud spattered clothes he came in lay discarded on the floor as Jason changes into a spare set of clothes. Nobody will miss what he's wearing, and maybe Alfred will be kind enough to burn those last few memories of his hell. 

For Dick's sake. Not for his. 

The elderly butler is cleaning up when Jason emerges. Filthy rags are in a pile on the floor to be washed later, and Jason can't look. Can't look at those, can't look at the emaciated man on the table wearing more bandages than bruises than clothes. 

"Master Jason?"

He knows that tone. Knows it far too well. It's the one that's going to come with the "suggestion" of getting looked over before a quick meal and bed. Not that Alfred ever really makes suggestions. 

"I can't, Alfred. I'm sorry." The apology is necessary. It's not Alfred's fault. It's Jason. This is all on Jason. 

"Whatever for, sir?"

God, Jason can't look the older man in the eye. Can't give himself even one reason to change his mind. "I... I can't stay. I've gotta go. Dick, he... He's not gonna want to see me when he wakes up..."

Alfred is silent for a few moments before he speaks. "Ah. I see. Are you sure, sir?"

Jason forces himself to nod. "I'm sure. Just... He probably won't want to be touched. And..." His mouth is already sandpaper, and it's a struggle to get the next words out. "He needs to be tested for STDs..."

This silence is tense and stiff. Jason knows Alfred's eyes are combing over the injuries on Dick's bodies, cataloging everything in a new light. "Of course..." 

This is too much. Too much guilt, pain, responsibility. Jason manages a terse nod in response to Alfred before all but running to a bike. 

"Master Jason!"

And he freezes in place, turning around to face the elderly butler. 

"Be careful, sir. Please."

The roar of the engine fills the cave as Jason tears out into the night. No promises can be made. So he runs away and promises never to look back.

For Dick's sake. Not for his. 

 

 


End file.
